Classy Woman
by saffarinda
Summary: Sherlock, aged 11 and Mycroft, aged 13 are both attending one of their parents dinner party's. Wrinkled old hags and a Classy Woman with a husband away. And is rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock really that complicated? Rated K, I don't own Sherlock - please don't sue :)


**Two one-shots in a few days, I'm on a role.**

**This idea came to me and I thought 'Why not' **

Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes both 11 and 13 respectively were extremely bored. They were attending one of their Mother and Father's dinner parties and were both finding interesting things for their intellectual minds to pass the time with.

"Gay," Sherlock said, nodding towards a man who was flirting with a classy woman. Mycroft glanced him over before humming and saying "And her husband is currently away," referring to the classy woman. Sherlock observed the classy woman for two seconds before nodding his agreement.

The first hour of greetings went by quickly with their game when their father announced that they would now be heading to the dining room. Rolling their eyes, the two brothers moved from their positions beside the 'nibbles' table, straightened up their suits and smoothed their hair before putting on a fake smile and moving towards their parents.

"Hello, how are you the evening?" Sherlock said politely to a couple, covering up the boredom he was feeling inside and managing not to jump about like a maniac.

"Fine, thank you," said the man, whilst the woman cooed "Aren't you just adorable?" Restraining any eye rolling, Sherlock gave a polite smile and his thanks before moving away, glancing around the room unintentionally finding out lots of information about the guests (one was planning to assassinate his father, and Sherlock would gladly help – his father despised him) his eyes fell onto his brother who was cornered by a snobby old man and his wife who looked like a wrinkled old hag. As Sherlock moved closer he managed to pick up what was happening in the conversation without obviously eavesdropping.

"So boy, working hard at school?" questioned the man in the stern tone Sherlock an Mycroft's father usually used on them.

"Yes sir, all A+ grades," Sherlocks brother said with a tight smile. The wrinkled hag narrowed her eye's at him before saying "You look like a troublemaker, I think your parents could give you a good beating boy,"

Sherlock and Mycroft both nearly burst out laughing – if anyone was a troublemaker, it was definitely Sherlock. He would always go down to the forests to shoot a tree that had fell down years ago.

Putting on his most offended tone, Mycroft said "I behave perfectly well Ma'am, never been in trouble my whole life," There was a lie if Sherlock ever heard one, which he had when his Mother denied having an affair to his Father.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Sherlock and Mycroft's father – Rabastan – said in a grand tone. "May I please have the honor of introducing you to the main dining hall," Rabastan said making a grand sweeping gesture as the two servants opened the doors.

There were a chorus of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as everyone got sight of the long, Holly made tables that had been varnished for perfection and the wooden hard-backed chairs with silk cushions to sit on. The tall stained glass windows around the walls of the large room sent rays of colorful light around the room and the chandelier on the ceiling in the center of the room held the traditional twelve candles whilst the main source of light was found front the fancy lights around the walls.

People made their way to their seats and made polite conversation as the servants brought in their starters.

Sherlock and Mycroft were sitting next to each other so managed to play their game of "Who's gay, who's cheating and who wants to murder our parents?"

When the tomato soup starter came the chatter died down slightly. Sherlock grimaced as he observed the food, he had never ate much. His mother actually had to force him to eat on several occasions because he never felt hungry. But as the child of the host he had to eat all of the meals, so he politely sipped the soup taking care not to slurp. After his brother had finished his soup, they sneakily swapped bowls so Mycroft's looked as if only two spoonfuls had been taken out whilst Sherlocks was empty.

Mycroft quickly finished Sherlocks starter and they both smiled as they played a game of rock, paper, scissors, lizard, spock. A confusing game to most but simple to the brothers.

After empty bowls were swept away and replaced with roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, Yorkshire pudding and about ten gravy jugs across the table. Sherlock glanced away from the food, but picked up his cutlery and began to eat chunks of the roast beef, bits of mash and half of the vegetables. Mycroft finished his easily enough twenty minutes or so later, but their parents were watching them now so Sherlock continued going through the torture that is eating.

After he had finished nearly all of the plate, Sherlock felt extremely sick. He had never been good with food – but the small amounts seemed to work for his unusual system and unique mind, whilst large portions tended to make him sick.

A luxury vanilla ice-cream was brought in with a sprinkle of raspberries and chocolate flakes. Sherlock glanced at his parents to see them still staring at the boys, so Sherlock and Mycroft both finished their portions before sitting up and smiling at guests as their parents gaze seemed fixed on them.

After dinner, people began to leave to go home, giving the parents thanks and coming way to close to Sherlock and Mycroft's personal space.

At 10 o'clock the place had finally been cleared so the brothers kicked their dress shoes off and went to their parents waiting for their talks.

Surprisingly though, their parents complimented them. Sherlock was half listening to a lecture about guests when Sherlock felt his stomach lurch, it seemed that food was coming back up.

"Father," Sherlock began in his most polite and charming tone "Mycroft and myself both need to be well rested for school tomorrow, do mind much if we go to bed father?"

A minute later, the brothers were walking away from their parents and when out of their sight both ran to the bathroom, Sherlock lent over the toilet bowl puking up dinner whilst Mycroft put a hand on his back.

This was the worst evening in their lives. But it wasn't as bad in comparison to what that guy's wife would say when she found him return home with classy woman.


End file.
